I don't know if it qualifies as a scar, but the tip of my right middle finger leans to the right due to incessantly following my special interest as a very young child: drawing. It also used to sport a callus that was discolored from crayons, but that has faded.
one short one coming down diagonally off my lower lip - I was dancing in the living room with my dad when I was younger and fell down onto a shelf. one puckered-y mosquito bite looking one on my shoulder - my cousin was carrying me on his shoulders and I tipped to the side, leading the faux brick of the garage to scrape off all the skin there. (and a sewing machine needle went through my fingernail, but that didn't leave a scar, unbelievably)
Apart from the embarrassingly large number of deliberately self-inflicted scars, there are a few interesting ones on my body. I have a tiny one between my middle and ring fingers on my right hand. It was inflicted by a dead crab. Spoiler: you might not want to read this if you're vegetarian and/or squeamish. Over Christmas I went to a crab party. By 'crab party' I mean that there were several buckets - yes, buckets - of cooked crabs, a bunch of metal claw crackers (little nutcracker-like devices for getting the shells off), and a substantial amount of tequila. We were instructed to just have at it. When I was cracking open my fourth crab of the evening, I slipped and got scratched by the tip of its claw. I don't think I even bothered to wash it until I was done eating the crab, nor did I admit defeat - I went on to eat two more. They were delicious.
tw: abuse Uhh. General assortment on knees from falling as a kid or being a giant doofus when older. Wood friction burn on left arm, some clothesiron scars there as well, small ones. The kicker is the one under my eye, which I apparently got when my shitty biofather threw a cake spatula thinger at mom when I was a baby (and she was holding me) and it hit me. Apparently I needed stitches and mom was so upset that thinking about 24 years later gives her chills.
Oh, another interesting one: I have a puffy scar on my knee from a year ago, from rugburn. Just rugburn. My knee didn't even touch the rug directly; it happened through my dress. Dress was fine, apart from getting a little bloody. My knee kept bleeding for nearly two weeks and didn't heal fully for over a month.
Lots of little ones from an adventurous childhood and cooking accidents. Interesting ones are all from sports. Had like a dozen slices up and down my legs from girls' toenails playing water polo. Dime sized scar on the side of my head and subsequent white streak through my hair from someone grabbing me by the swim cap and smashing my head into a goalpost. (Next quarter I grabbed her by the Achilles tendon, yanked her to me and put my knee into her diaphragm. We were a vicious bunch, but if the ref didn't see it, it wasn't a foul. We exchanged congratulatory fist-bumps afterwards. It's a weird relationship between players. She's the one who suggested I pretend the fist-sized red-purple birthmark on my ass was a bruise to get sympathy points from refs and maybe a free foul shot.)
when i was three-ish i ran into a pole on a playground and split my chin open, it's the skin riiiight under where you would generally see just from looking at me head-on but if i tilt my head up and you look for it it's apparently pretty see-able, apparently there was blood everywhere and i have a long gash on my left thigh from fencing!! we're supposed to wear at least shin-length pants to prevent injury but the day in question was hot as balls so i decided to just wear shorts, Mistake. my weapon snapped in half (a fairly common occurrence) and i sort of exasperatedly swung my arms down, the sharp broken bit of the metal slashed right across my leg, gouged out a fair bit of flesh :"D lotta lotta blood. the scar is starting to fade a little actually (this happened last summer) but it's still there LOL i also have a lot of acne scars on my upper back/shoulders bc whoops ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ my dad has two flat fingers from working with a table saw and fucking up, he sliced off the tip of his index finger and the tip of his thumb on two separate occasions lmao
My dad's missing the upper joint of his left thumb because of something like that; he was working as a picture framer at the time, and the saws back then (early 70s) didn't have any safety guards and safety instruction for the employees was non-existent.
My favorite scars are my thumb surgery ones. They go along the join of thumb to palm, on the inside, on both hands. You can clearly see the line of the incision, plus three stitches crossing perpendicular to it. The surgery was to repair a congenital defect; apparently before it I couldn't fully extend my thumbs because the tendon couldn't slide through the bone sheath freely.
I just remembered this today - I have two itty-bitty pinprick scars, one on each earlobe, from when I decided I wanted a second set of piercings and was told only thugs/prostitutes/Those Kind Of People have more than one set. ("[BFF] has two piercings!" "That's a cultural thing." She's Mexican.) If you've seen the relevant scene in the Parent Trap remake, it was the only time I've ever emulated anything out of media. (If you haven't, it involved a sewing needle and an apple.) And it totally worked! I kind of managed to get them even, somehow! And then after successfully hiding them for two months my dad saw them and became convinced my ears were going to turn green and fall off, despite me very diligently caring for them exactly as I had the original set I had done at Claire's. (Which have also grown up, because tiny hoops fell out of fashion and I stopped wearing earrings as a result.)
lil white crescents on the webbing between my thumb and forefinger from irritable rabbits, but those are mostly faded also, there's a big arm scar from when i was an idiot 13 yr old and played the 'eraser challenge' with my friends; it involved rubbing an eraser against the skin of your arm really really fast and the last person to fold wins...something? recognition and idiot scars, prolly. (i was the kinda kid who sat in the back of the class and played quarters til the desk got smeary w/ blood lmfao)
The biggest scars I have are on my knees, especially my left knee. When I was about eight I was walking our dog (a lab/cocker spaniel mix) and we were going down a hill and I forget when happened but he took off. I had his leash slip-knotted around my wrist and when he took off I fell forward and he dragged me down the hill. The asphalt was old and worn and so there were rocks sticking out of it, and they took strips out of my knees. A neighbour saw me and got me home and my mom took me to the hospital. They cleaned my knees, but it wasn't something they could stitch up, so I still have white strips of scar tissue on both knees. When I was about thirteen I was working in the family slaughterhouse. It was just before Christmas and my mom took us out of school so we could help kill and butcher turkeys (I was the oldest). We were drinking Mike's Hard Lemonade and gutting turkeys, and I don't remember how but I cut the end of my left thumb off. I was somewhat impaired and I just carried on working because that's what you do, and I didn't really feel it or take much notice of it until after the day was done when I was cleaning up. I had cut a good chunk off the end of my thumb, including some of the nail. Those knives are sharp, they have to be. It was pretty grisly, and I had to keep working with an open wound. I don't know why we didn't have any latex gloves, that was probably pretty unhealthy. It grew back, but I still have a thick white oval scar across the top of my thumb. You can see it when I'm fingerprinted, I've been asked what it is by officers and had to tell the story in Arabic. Leaving out the alcohol part of course. The knuckles of the thumb and first two fingers on my right hand are covered in small scars from working on cars. I had to learn the hard way as a teenager to push a wrench with an open hand and not a closed fist, because that's how you take your knuckles off. Apparently I had to learn that lesson repeatedly before it sunk in, I don't really remember.
LMAO what. I've never heard that before. When I was seventeen I gave myself a second set of ear piercings, because I had two sets of earrings and it was very important to me that I be able to wear them both at the same time (I have no idea). So I stuck safety pins through my earlobes and closed them, and presto, I had two sets of piercings. And I wasn't in school and I had just gotten laid off from my shitty retail job, so I didn't have to worry about running afoul of dress codes. Except I was young and dumb and it hadn't occurred to me to mark out where I wanted them, or to disinfect the sites or the safety pins, or even to use an ice cube. It didn't hurt at first, but then my earlobes started getting red and swollen and it was December in Canada and the safety pins froze when I went outside. And I had to walk everywhere, so that wasn't very much fun. I dabbed rubbing alcohol on my ears with a cotton ball in a mall bathroom and ran the safety pins back and forth. It really burned. It's amazing you kept your ears a secret from your dad for that long! My mom saw mine when I visited at Christmas, and she too was convinced my ears were going to fall off, since they were already infected. But eventually the infection went down, and I still have the holes. They're off centre and uneven, and the holes run at a funny angle inside my earlobes, and I haven't worn earrings in them for nearly a decade so I don't know if they're still open, but they're still there.
I have (or had, I don't know if it's still visible) a scar along my eyebrow from falling over and mashing my glasses into my face as a kid. Also, not quite a scar, but I have a crack in my skull from being dropped on my head when I was a baby. (I did not know this until recently, and had kind of wondered if my skull was just randomly splitting apart.)
"But, Dad, Mom has two sets of piercings!" "Well that's..." "And [paternal grandmother]!" *inaudible grumbling* I found the pro-con list I made to convince him once. It listed things like, "It's not really a slutty piercing, like my belly button or my tongue" and "I promise I won't get any more!" and I laughed so hard I my abs hurt. Pretty sure I could hear the whirring noise from his grave half a continent away but sorry, not sorry: these nipple piercings are hot as hell.
Hm, I have a scar on the middle of the finger joint right upnder my left ring finger nail, though I have no idea how I got it. Plus there's a thin one on my right forearm and various small ones where I kept picking at bug bits. I might still have a scar on my back - I got it a while ago and it is right at the base of my spine where I can't twist around to see it. I got it when my family was down in Florida for my sister's gymnastic thing. We were all playing by the pool, and mom and one of my cousins (there were two, this was the older one) were swinging people into the pool for fun. Well, I go up to be tossed in, but older cousin switched out with the younger cousin, and she was a bit shorter. Which meant that when they swung me in the side of the pool scraped right against the base of my spine (both of them were very sorry about it, though I don't recall it being that bad.)
Yeah, multiple piercings were not something "respectable" (read as "white middle class") people were supposed to have, apparently? This was...early 2000s? So idk what White Middle Class People they were thinking of. I had long hair at the time and my dad had two modes, Work and Asleep. Unfortunately it was summer in Georgia and I had to pull my hair back on a day he was home. It kicked off the secret third mode, Lecture. :( (My piercings would grow up if I went, like, a week without wearing earrings, it was really annoying.)
