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This is a question Scars with history

You've all got scars: they're nature's little reminders not to be so damned stupid next time. My favourite is the 1/4" round hole in the back of my right hand, created when I was 7 by my best friend putting a manure-covered gardening fork "away".

Tell us the stories behind your scars. With photos if possible.

(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:00)
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This question is now closed.

Alcohol is a drug
I got very drunk. So did my then girlfriend. She decided she wanted to cut my arm open with a razor-blade and drink my blood. I let her.

It didn't heal very well, and I still have a raised inch-long scar on my fore-arm.

I have other scars, but they only result from falling off a motorbike in the south of france.
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 11:19, Reply)
Slight facial burnage
due to bobbing for chips in the Falklands
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 11:19, Reply)
Only a liitle one...
...and it's hidden by my left eyebrow.

I was going down the garden path on a skateboard on my hands and knees when a tassle from the hooded top i was wearing went under the front wheels dragging my head down onto the paving slabs. By using my face as a brake for about 2 feet i put scabs up the left side of my face, which mostly cleared up, thankfully.
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 11:15, Reply)
Scientific ambition hurts.
Tried to clean my paint- covered hands with deodorant, figuring that everything with enough alcohol in it would make things go sparkly.
As I sprayed, I felt my hands go cold. Mmmh. Interesting.
Long story short, the answer to the question how cold a spot of skin can get when you spray it from a distance of half an inch is: Quite cold. Oh, yes, quite cold, indeed.
Took almost two months until the patch turned from a slightly nauseating splotchy purple dead flesh- thing to the happy white knobbly thing it is today.
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 11:13, Reply)
About the age of 8 I was playing at school
And some fool in the year below (I think) leaped on my back and i sort of swung round and my right arm connected with his face in some bizarre fashion.

The next thing I know he is lying on the floor screaming so hard it attracts the attention of a dinner lady. Who has to stop herself being sick. Blood pissing out of the kid's mouth and two front teeth missing.

Everyone (including me) looks for the teeth (why?) until something itches my hand, so i scratch the itch and there is blood everywhere. I trace where the blood is coming from....

"Miss" says I, with panic in my voice, "I've found his teeth"

They were sticking out of my arm, along with some sub-cutaneous fat and loads of blood. Of course at the dight of this I cried like the big jessie I am. And the dinner lady was finally sick.

Basically his teeth had gone through his bottom lip and into my arm, getting stuck and ripping out of his head. I have a 3 inch scar on the outside of my right forearm.

It got infected as hell, probably beacuse I always took the dressing off to show other kids at school!
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 11:09, Reply)
My slashed wrist was dead good.
I ran up the steps outside work happy to be finishing another soul leeching day.

Like I spacker, I had a pair of side cutters in my pocket that cut through my wrist with precision acuracy.

The funny thing is, my mom thought i was playing the fool when i was jumping around like a twat. When she frowned and told me to shut up and get in the car, I casually tapped on her window and showed her the gaping wound through my skin right into the flesh, complete with lumps of fat hanging out and everything.

Oh how we laughed in the hospital.
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 11:05, Reply)
When I was a nipper, only about 3 months old, my elder brother still hadn't got over the fact there was someone else to share all the attention with. Mum says there was no way he could of been aiming for me but the fish knife he threw (yes, my mum let my 2 year old brother play with a fish knife) hit me all the same and embedded itself in my baby soft skull. Mum was to scared to remove it so she took me down to casualty looking like a demented Teletubby proto-type. There is a photo somewhere but I'm still a little disturbed that my mum took time to find the camera before taking me to the hospital.
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 11:05, Reply)
I'll try and keep this short
I was 16, on an exchange trip to Spain, aimed at improving our very basic grasp of the language.

I'm off on my own (probably not a good idea in itself), riding a bike to where I was working. I'm steaming down a hill, an insect flies into my eye, so I rub it with one hand while continuing to steer the bike.

The hill gets steeper, bike goes faster, one hand is still on my eye, so I pull the brake with the other.

Front brake locks on, I fly over the handlebars and wake up a little while later surrounded by a well-meaning and worried Spanish family.

They're pointing to the lump on my head and the bleeding gash on my arm (hence the scar), jabbering away in Spanish.

I've just woken up, and the best I can come up with in return is "I am 16. I am from England. I am an exchange student. Do you sell stamps? Where is the train station? The light in my room doesn't work.....etc.".
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 11:05, Reply)
Many moons ago the newest craze to hit our school was getting bolt gun bullets (a bit like a blank bullet) and chucking bricks at them from a distance to make them go off.

I hit mine with a hammer to make sure it went off, fast forward to me spending the rest of the day trying to pull a chunk of red hot shrapnel out of my thumb bone. Then super-gluing the wound (not that big) shut cos' I was too scared to tell my mum.

(apologies for etc etc)
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 11:01, Reply)
Yet another: an inch long scar below my chin
Created by bashing my chin on the side of the bath as a small child who didn't want to get out and was going to fight for his right to go all wrinkly.

Our very posh neighbours offered my mum a lift to the hospital. I bled all over the white leather interior of their car. We never got offered a lift again.
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 11:00, Reply)
Arse cheek
Got out of the shower all clean & not covered in blood. Slipped, landed on the tiled corner of the shower & ended up with a 4 inch scar on my right arse cheek. Got back in the shower & waited for the bleeding to stop. Who needs stitches?

Also got bit on the nose by a Staffs Bull Terrier while in the pub. Now have a small chunk of nostril missing.

& when I was a baby I got a scar in the shape of lightening on my forehe..blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:57, Reply)
Another of the many: inch long scar across the web of my left thumb.
At boarding school, ill with flu.
School nurse brings me an orange to eat.

I decide to cut this orange up with a scalpel, which cuts through the orange and my hand with equal ease.

Stumbling down the street to get my stitches in my hand, I get accosted by a teacher for _not wearing socks_. How he could see that and not take in the blood-soaked teatowel wrapped around my hand I still don't know.
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:57, Reply)
One of the many: a small scar just to the left of my left eye
generated by trying to negotiate an empty restaurant whilst pissed.

Tripped over a chair, landed head first on the little spike shaped tap thingy that controls the flow of water into a radiator. It missed my eye by millimetres.

The resulting black eye and swelling lasted for 4 days.

Moral: chairs are evil.
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:54, Reply)
got a good one
on my right hand from the tail-end of a spinnaker sheet. Was crewing a 50 foot racing machine and trimming the spinnie when the winch broke. the line slashed through my leather gloves before taking my hand down to the bone.

scar now stretches right across my palm.

Have a 4 inch scar on my left shin from a mountain unicycling accident. Slipped as i was doing some urban trials, the pedal broke through my leg armour and put a 3 1/2 inch bone-deep gash in my leg.
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:54, Reply)
My sister's great,
but I didn't think so when she kicked me backwards down the stairs when I was three (she was eight).

By the time a cold compress had been applied to the gash on my head (waiting for the ambulance), my sis had packed her bags in readiness for being in the deepest of deep shit.

Result: stitches and a corking scar on the side of my head.
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:53, Reply)
I have
a crescent shaped scar on my right hand gained during a water fight.

Being the smart arse that I am, I thought I'd gain a tactical advantage by going up to my bedroom window to rain, 'watery death' from above on the poor saps below. Unfortunately, my bedroom was still in reach of the water-combatants below. I had to be quick.
In my head, the plan was:-
Open window
shove hand out
throw water balloons
bring hand in
close window
laugh at soggy friends below.

Unfortunately it turned out like this:-
Open window
shove hand out
throw water balloons
close window on my hand
try and retrieve hand without first opening window
scrape a 2*0.5 inch strip of skin off my hand
panic some more
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:48, Reply)
From an Armed Robbery
Got 13 stiches in the lovely shape of an "L" on the plam of my left hand when I got stabbed in an Armed Robbery. Severed tendon, lots of blood. F**ker locked me up whist the waiting for he time lock to go off.

Police caught him 2 years later and he got 18 years for the attack on me...

Justice - nice!
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:38, Reply)
Ahh, another one, Right above my nose between my eyes
I was about 2-3 and sitting on the window-cill with a broken arm (which i got from jumping off the bed without a parachute) and a bandaged ankle (which i cant remeber how i got)

i decided to jump down, i dunno how but i suppose rather comicaly i fell head first onto the table corner, all i remeber is red, lots of red *Blank* then the Doc, after looking from my broken arm, bandaged ankle, to my head asking if my parents ever beat me.

Im not accident prone or anything... Honnest!
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:37, Reply)
My she-devil of an ickle sister
is the cause of two of my scars, one on my forehead and one on my stomach. The forehead one was aquired on the way back from a daytrip to Bournemouth when she "got bored" and dug her nails into my head to "see if they were sharp." I got the stomach one some years earlier on the way to Cornwall when, for no apparent reason, she bit me with all her might. Couldn't get her off either. Fucking nutjob.

Also got quite a gnarly one on me leg, due to my sheer mongoloid nature. Was climbing through a hole in a fence, tripped, leg got pierced on the only jagged (and rusty) wire sticking out and my t-shirt got caught as well. So I was kind of suspended in this hole for quite some time as my friends laughed at me. They went to get my mum who extracted me after maybe 20 minutes of being there. When I got out there was copious amounts of blood from the mahoosive slice on my leg, which a neighbour suggested I "let a dog lick, as it's a great remedy." No, ta.

You love the length.
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:37, Reply)
As a baby
I exploded about a month after I was born (don't laugh it's true). It wasn't until I hit the pubes that I was finally able to conceal the remains of this explosion. Only those closest to me have ever discovered the secret..... no photos (think about the children)
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:36, Reply)
My most notable is on my right elbow. Got it when I was jumped on my way home from town. Was is no fit state to fight back and took a kicking on the floor. Annoyingly I was left with a big bit of skin missing that took weeks to heal.

Sobbered up a bit a caught up with the buggers at a taxi rank later on though. I bet they've got some nice scars now. :-)
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:32, Reply)
I too was seven...
... when I fell off my Saturn-shaped bouncey thing. Y'know, popular in the mid-nineties, ball with plastic ring around the edge for your feet.
I still have the scar; it mocks me still by having the exact shape of Saturn. Grrr...
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:27, Reply)
Not really a scar,
but i've got a big blue dot under my left eye where my little sister stabbed me with a blue pencil crayon, the lead broke off and its still blue 13 years later.

Said sister, year later, gets me again about 1/2" further down my face with a fiery stick next bonfire. EDIT - THAT ones a scar :)

But again, the chicks dig it
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:27, Reply)
Sharp things and anger/bordom/shite music dont mix
= 130 Scars n after 9 months only about half have blended in. im only just starting to think it was a bad idea
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:22, Reply)
I took one in the chest....
...well, not really. I actually got Chicken Pox when I was 13. Not realising the onset of said affliction, when the first pock arrived I pickedandscratchedandpickedagain.

Result? A marvellous scar on my chest that I resembles a bullet-wound.

Chicks dig it.
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:22, Reply)
Big scar on my left butt cheek
I slipped over in the snow about 20 years ago and fell on a fucking big nail. Ouch.

(You ain't getting a picture!)
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:20, Reply)
When I was about 8 I went over the handlebars of my bike and landed on my face. Slid on my face for about a foot and when I stopped I had ripped the inside of my bottom lip out, which was hanging all over my chin. Nice. Got a nice line inside my mouth where they stapled me back together. Quality piece of workmanship it is too.

Much later in life, my mate put his thumb along the blade of a hedge trimmer to see how sharp it was and accidentally pressed the "Go" button... That gave the staff a bit of a giggle at casualty that day!!

I also have a big line across the back of my head from a chav with a stanley knife who didn't like me being on his bit of pavement. Cunt.
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:20, Reply)
The black mark in my knee
It reminds me that sticking a pencil in your leg is not big or clever. Apart from that I'm pretty much blemish free - a shame because everyone knows 'chicks dig scars'.
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:14, Reply)
I have a little one in my left eye socket (on the earward side) from where i ran into a coffee table as a toddler. Also, copious head scars (which can no longer be seen) from when i was a baby and my mum used to accidentaly drop me on my head with seemingly worrying frequency, and also from when i used to smack my head on the floor for fun, as it were.
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:13, Reply)
Don't play with marbles on the stairs...
... and if you absolutely must, don't act like a petulant, tubby little shit when your mum tells you that you can't have any sweets.

And if you really, really must act like a petulant, tubby little shit, don't stomp up and down the marble covered stairs...

Cue much slippage, tumbling, and a nasty case of skull/corner of a radiator interface.

Much blood and a trip to the hospital later leaves you with a nice scar on the top of your head, and getting some sweeties for being such a brave little boy - result!

I was only ickle at the time....
(, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:12, Reply)

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