Scars with historyYou'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.
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chthonic, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:00)
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More Fear and Clumsiness in PoughkeepsieAm in Boot Camp. For the Marines. All gung ho and grungy and running through the woods doing tactical maneuvers with an M-16 (jumping and hiding behind logs and stuff like that). I launch myself like some insane person from a standing to a prone position, so I can go from a vertical tree to a fallen log in one crisp clean militaristic movement. The result? I misjudge the length of my body completely, slam my M-16 down on the log instead of behind it, which then slams my head down onto my M-16's front sight post (it has a little thingy that points up) and the sight post go completely through the skin beneath my lower lip.
I must have made quite a racket, because a drill instructor comes running over to yell at me. I stand up real quick and there I am, in all my glory, blood all over my M-16 and running down my face.
The look of astonishment on my drill instructors face before she could compose herself was magnificent. Despite myself, I laughed maniacally. And, much like the "crabapple tree hill incident", garnered myself a beating (many many many many pushups).
My boyfriend reverently kisses this particular scar all the time.
(, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 21:55, Reply)
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