I have this really neato scar on the second knuckle of my left index finger.  I got it when I was cutting the stems off some awesome gerbera daisies that this awesome chick friend of mine sent me one Valentine’s Day.  It didn’t hurt when I did it, but about an hour later, holy christ. 

I have only the one but I kind of love the story.

I was sound checking a band (who thankfully were also friends of mine) at a little roots club I worked at.  I kept getting this nasty feedback and couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.  So I hopped up on the stage and get them to play quietly so I can see how they’re standing etc with the hopes that if the feedback returned I’d get them to stop and it would go away.  Yeah...feedback doesn’t work that way.  So I leap off the 3 foot high stage to run back to my soundboard to kill the sound.  I run a couple of steps, then my feet decided to collide with each other propelling the rest of me forward - hitting, in order, knees, chest, face and lastly my right hand - smack.  My martial arts friend/singer of the band called this a “break fall” - smacking your hand down last to absorb the impact of the fall.  So I ended up with not even one bruise, but my hand split open.  I was taken kicking & screaming ("I can’t go - I need to run sound for the band!") to the ER where I convinced them to bind my hand up without stitches because the wait was too long and I had to run the show.  I promised to return within the 5 hour window they made me vow to and off I went drugged and bandaged.  I returned to applause, ran the show, packed up the gear and then asked the room who was going to take me back to the ER.  I now have a 2 inch scar from the base of my right palm almost perfectly along my life line ending in what looks like a little wishbone. 

Lesson - don’t stagedive without an audience.

(whew - sorry that was so long!)

Let’s see...I have a two-inch scar too- a horizontal beauty that floats right below the calf muscle on my left leg. I was over at a friend’s house, and we were enjoying the last week of summer before we were going to start junior high. The visit was fun, but uneventful, and it was time for me to go home for dinner. I hopped on my ten-speed, coasted down the hill, and stood up on the bike pedals.

My left foot slipped off, my right foot plunged forward and the safety ridges that were designed to keep my feet on the pedals in the first place sank into the back of my left leg.

It didn’t hurt at first, and I was about to get back on and ride the rest of the way home when I saw the copious amounts of blood.

Twelve stitches later, I was ok, although pissed because the stitch placement was going to interfere with the outfit I planned to wear for the first day of school. (Some things never change.)

Also, I got in trouble that night when I was talking on the phone with my buddy, and my parents overheard me saying, “They put COCAINE solution on my leg!!!! My leg is HIGH!!!!”

I have a scar on my right knee from falling off my yellow banana seat bike (complete with rainbow seat).  It was the first time I rode my bike by myself without training wheels and I was in full ballerina garb. 

Nothing is more tragic than a bleeding ballerina in pink tights.

I’m not sure if this qualifies as a scar, per se, but it’s the result of an incident. When I was around eight years old, I was helping my mom bring laundry in from the car. She was carrying the baskets, I was in charge of her coffee mug. I tripped on a crack in the patio and went down, of course trying to catch myself with the same hand I was using to carry the mug. Apparently, it didn’t occur to me to, I dunno, let go of the mug? I scored a bloody trip to the ER, several stitches and a several lollipops. My left ring finger now curves upward from the knuckle to my fingertip while the other four are perfectly straight. I did learn something, though: if you start to fall, it might be best to let go of whatever you’re carrying.

I have this 3” long Y-shaped scar over my left eye, one leg over almost the whole eyebrow and the shorter leg through the eyebrow into the eyelid (I know, probably too much information).  It came from a lovely day of motorcycle riding on a warm June afternoon many moons ago.  Unfortunately, the lady that pulled out in front of me had issues seeing motorcycles on lovely June afternoons.  I proceeded to fly 50 or so feet through the air, over the car and landed face first on the pavement.  Luckily, I was wearing a helmet, but my sunglasses weren’t so lucky.  They shattered, thus leaving an interesting scar that required 45 stitches to repair.

It certainly does make for an interesting conversation piece.

I have some now almost imperceptible scars on my knees from 6th grade when I tripped over someone’s feet while running in a group of people for PE.  I skidded across the blacktop and remember my wrists killing me when I got up.  It wasn’t until I was walking toward the teacher that someone yelled “oh my god, your knee”, which was streaming blood.  I didn’t even feel it--at least, not until I looked at it.

The school nurse told me she wasn’t allowed to clean it with anything but water, so that’s all that was used to wash it off.  I went to the Urgent Care when my dad came and got me, and they sat me in a room and lost my file for awhile.  Eventually I got it cleaned up, but it left a scar that reminds me of that day--especially since I managed to sprain both my wrists in the process.  Lemme tell you, 2 sprained wrists sucks--you’d be surprised how often you move them during the day to do basic tasks like picking things up, opening books, writing, getting dressed, whatever.

Oh I also have another one from when I used to beat up kids by scratching them hard until they bled (yea, I guess I was a mean kid).  With no end to the behavior in sight, my mom got so frustrated she threatened that if I did it again, she’d do it to me.  Well, it happened again and my mom followed through.  She scratched my left arm and 21 years later you can still see a faint scar.  I stopped scratching people after that though, so I guess it was an effective punishment and reminder!

kneecap scar. 7-year-old bicycle accident. i was riding my bike in the parking lot behind our apartment complex and i don’t even remember how it happened, just that it did, and it was awful and there was like blood and yellow puss coming out of it… oh, horrific!!

amazingly enough, it’s the only childhod scar i have (and you can barely see the thing!). i don’t know how i managed that. i was pretty rough and tumble there for about 5 minutes.

I have a half-dollar sized scar on my right knee.  The gym at our High School had just been graced with new flooring.  It had this weird rubbery coating on it.  I was playing basketball, running down the court, and I tripped.  My knee hit the floor, and stopped.  Unfortunately, the rest of me sorta kept going.  It ripped THROUGH my sweats, and made it so that the skin over my knee was now like a trap door.  I went to the hospital, and they used a wire brush to clean it since it was full of fuzzies from my sweatpants.  I wasn’t numb yet when they did that.
Sucked.  I then got several big, nasty looking stitches. Every time I notice that scar, I cringe.

I am also missing part of my right pinky-tip.  I closed my hand in the side door of our house when I was 5.  It was a big, heavy, wooden door. I did not feel it. I am not quite sure how I managed to do this. I walked over to my friends house and didn’t know anything was wrong until her Mom answered the door and started screaming. I looked and there was the bone of my finger staring at me. The fleshy part of my finger tip was laying on our deck.  Doc folded the flaps of skin over the bone and sent me on my way.  So the top of my pink is all weird looking. There is a scar right on top and that is the only padding I have over the bone.  Sucks ass when I accidentally whack it on something.  Yeowch.

I scar really really easy.  Blame it on the Filipino skin.  As a matter of fact, I scar so easy, that when I would trip and fall, I would get in trouble because my Mama knew it would scar.  She would always say “OH Booboo! What you do? You need to be careful! You scar easy!”

I have scars (yep more than one) on both knees, both elbows, my forehead, my shins, my hands, my arms, my wrists (not those kind of scars), even on my back.  I was such a tomboy.

I have a scar on the back my left hand, in the fleshy part between my thumb and index finger. I was making green chile one night, about 7 years ago, and was running late for a PTA meeting - I was the Vice President. Woo! I was trying to make a nice little roux out of flour and molten lava bacon fat, and whipped some of it right onto my hand. I ended up conducting the meeting with my hand in a cup of ice water. And the most bizarre thing - not ONE PERSON asked me why I had a Big Gulp cup for a hand!

I have a scar about the size of a finger tip (that’s all I could think of to compare it to) just above my lip.  My twin brother and I were 10 years old and we were riding our bikes and I was foolishly pedaling furiously downhill and lost control and TOTALLY bit it.  The weird thing is, as I left the bike, I slid on my face for about 10 or 15 feet but nothing else touched the ground.  I lost 4 front teeth and most of the right side of my face just pretty much scraped off. Thankfully, my nose was not touched!  So my brother rides up to me and the first words out of his mouth were, “Are you okay?” Yeah, I’m FINE.

As luck would have it, the on-call doctor in the ER just happened to be a plastic surgeon so the scar I ended up with wasn’t as bad as it could have been.  When I landed, I ended up in the gutter, which had water in it.  My mother, who was a nurse, and the doctor decided that I must be in shock because I “wet myself.” I couldn’t speak and started to cry because they thought I wet my pants!  The HORROR!  Man, were my priorities messed up!

The cool thing about this story is that it happened less than two weeks before Halloween.  I got so many compliments on my “mask!”

Oh girl, you opened up a big-ol-can of worms with that question. I warn you…

1. right between the eyes? chicken pox scar. I see a lot of people with this. I wonder if it’s some sort of “sign” or “mark” like Heroes. Yea I know. Keep dreaming.
2. Knee--ran to the back fence because my dad was rushing me for school. I slid on some ice and wound up shoving my knee under a chain-link fence and ripped that puppy open. Great way to start the day.
3. Other knee super scar I should have gotten stiches for. Got out of the bathtub, put my leg over the side and sliced my knee open on the pedestal sink that had a big ol chunk of ceramic cut out of it. That was about 1984? The same sink still has a chunk taken out of it. Talk about OSHA hazard.
4. Elbow--sliced scar. Playing with friends when I was about 11. Fell right on the corner of a brick.
5. Up my nose on the septum. Thank septoplasty for that (this Feb. First official surgery. I’m loving anesthesia)
6. And here’s the kicker....

My clit hood.

How?

Here’s the TMI....Trimming the ol topiary when I was a teen...I was hacking away when all of a sudden...*snip*...I snipped my clit hood. The pain was unusual. Super sharp where I felt it in the middle of my throat. I didn’t really bleed but it was one of those pains you’ll never forget. Now I have some funky tiny scar. Every time I see it I still feel that pain in the middle of my throat.

See? And you thought that John Tesh story was something. Maybe that was the fact I should have shared on the contest post at Y’s?

Right below my left eye on my cheek bone.  Split open while playing flag football in high school P.E. class.  Was going in to sack the quarterback when he drew his elbow back to throw a pass.  Elbow + Cheekbone = Bloody Mess.  It was NOT pretty!

I’ve got a scar on the palm of my hand that I got while doing the dishes. I was cleaning a glass on the inside, the glass broke, and I slid my hand deep into the newly jagged edge. I called my wife and she took me to the hospital. I was about to drive myself when I realized that it’s hard to drive a stick-shift when your hand hurts like a *&%#*^*@!$*^ and bleeding profusely.

Ah, good times.

Yea I was curling up alright. Sorry about the TMI, but what do you expect from me?
Now I have bionic clit hood. *insert Jamie Summers slow-mo jump noise*

I rode for a few years after that accident, but have given it up for the last few years.  I still have my motorcycle license, though, just in case the urge to ride comes back.

I’ve been told the scar adds character or did they say I was just a character, I can’t remember.

I have a scar on my calf where my eczema (sp?) “rotted” my skin. :D