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what's the story behind your scar? (1 Viewer)

AAABatteries

Footballguy
Worst was a soccer injury - playing during practice on an old field that wasn’t meant for soccer.  I tripped and went down on a rock.  Sliced my leg open about 3 inches on my right thigh.

 

matuski

Footballguy
I have a scar right on my hairline, and a scar right at the bottom of my chin.

I split both open in separate incidents on the same mailbox in one month in preschool.  They had a big barrel you could walk/run on and move, Like this. .. I didn't know how to stop.  Ended up face first in that same mailbox twice. 

Still prominent.

 

bigmarc27

Footballguy
One on my wrist - when we were kids my brother and I were playing and he used a pair of cops and robbers cuffs on me. The safety on it was broken, he had to use a sander to get it off. The sander left a scar on my wrist from the heat.

One on my left knee - surgery

One on my left bicep - posted a pic of this the other day (I’ll find again and edit the pic in here). Few years back I was at my mom’s for Thanksgiving. We were in the back yard with our dog. Another dog came running down the street and jumped up on my wife. It was innocent enough, it wasn’t being violent, but our Weim took it as aggression and he went to intervene. Seeing that my best buddy was going to get destroyed by this other dog (mine is 82 lbs, this dog was well over 100lbs), I did something stupid and intervened.  My boy clamped down in my bicep in the melee. Once he realized it was me, he let go, but not before I have a full set of teeth marks, top and bottom on my left arm. They’re still pretty visible. 

My arm a few days after (these marks are mirrored on the other side):

https://i.postimg.cc/k4y8wVRm/405-F205-D-7302-4-ED1-8778-BFE0-DCC1-CCDE.jpg

The culprit saying he didn’t mean no harm, he’s just protecting his family:

https://i.postimg.cc/bwMR22kV/16910-AA4-FCAD-4-D3-F-B551-F809-CF10-B324.jpg

 
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Galileo

Footballguy
Had 212 stitches in my head from a car accident back in '92... I have a scar on the left side of my face running from near the corner of my mouth about 2/3's the way across the cheek towards my ear...sort of follows my would be upper beard line if I had a full beard.  There is a small gap and then a scar running from there up towards the corner of my eye.  There is another scar about an inch long on my scalp from the same accident, but it is pretty much hidden by hair.

 

wikkidpissah

Footballguy
i 've written this up before:

We moved to the 'burbs out of a lower-class Irish/Italian neighborhood in Metro Boston when I was 12, because black people were starting to move across the tracks from Roxbury into our hood. I'm reminded of comedian Robert Klein's wonderful story about growing up in the Bronx in the 1950s where he mistakenly thought "schwarze", the Jewish derogation of Negro, was actually the Yiddish word for the atomic bomb because his parents kept saying that just one could destroy an entire neighborhood. Anyway, the two memories that stay most vivid within me are stoop life and Irish girls.

Some rowhouse cultures are roof-based, some in streets and parks. Life on Mozart Street was conducted on stoops and porches. There werent any yards to speak of, so play either happened down in the trainyards or out in front of your house. Most of what made stoop-hanging worthwhile was Irish girls.

When I moved out to the burbs and discovered tall, blonde WASP chicks, I forgot Irish girls almost in the way of someone ashamed of his past but, since my Mary died (who was German/Irish but looked far more Teutonic than Celtic), I've gone back to the Irish girl as my model of erotic joy. Now, I'd much rather look at a plain Irish girl who has the look - mahogany hair, pale skin with a light embarrassment of freckle, and sad & bright green eyes - than any supermodel. And I rarely look at an Irish girl without thinking of Siobhan Donlan.

There's Jewish princesses, Black queens, Italian princepesas, Anglo-Saxon debutantes but you'll never hear the term Irish princess. Maybe the odd ginger #####, but a Black Irish girl's most endearing quality is that they only want to be happy, and they can't be happy unless everyone is happy. They take a joy in plain ways and pleasing others that makes them more feminine than anyone wearing a tiara. That's not to say they are without spirit. 'Tis the spirit which gives them the joy.

Siobhan was a perfect Black Irish girl. She could play like a boy and tease like a girl, divine in sneakers or an Easter frock. 'Twas impossible not to love her because, even though playing one besotted boy off another was a source of delight to her, when she was with you there was no other. I loved her mostly from afar, for I've always been hesitant to impose myself upon another and, because my father hated the Irish drunks (of which Siobhan's father was one) that surrounded him on Mozart St., our families did not get along. But, if I heard a row coming from their apartment across the street, I'd hurry down to the stoop to wait for her to come down, beaten or bothered, so I could rescue her. Off we'd run, hand in hand, to the railyard or the park on Lamartine, well out of earshot. She didn't like to cry, though sometimes she couldn't help not, so I'd bring out my funny to put that glorious smile back on her face. My sense of humor has yet to be better used. We'd remain 'til there was more trouble in staying out than going home and I'd set her back in her place, happy if not safe.

When hormones invaded me and I began sneaking looks at Dad's Playboys, needs must a new element be added to the rescues of my fair colleen. There's not an Irish girl alive who isn't ticklish so, since my job when with Siobhan was to cheer up, I'd use a tickle attack as a way to get atop her. Once she was well pinned, my hips would begin their primal roll into her and a-dry humpin' we would go, tra lala lalee. Somehow I could tell that Siobhan was no stranger to the phenomenon, but Irish women have always made light work of indulging men in their grunting times.

This new exercise made me much more aggressive in my quest to be her swain, but it didn't last for long. I was staking my turf on her stoop one afternoon when Johnny Murphy - older, bigger, meaner Johnny Murphy - came by and attempted to dispatch me. I was a pipsqueak but, this time, I stood my ground. Short woik for Moiph - like any Irishman, happier with the end of any fight than the beginning - who simply grabbed the metal squeeze mop drying by the door and opened the crown of me head like a coconut. I've never seen so much blood. If I hadn't been wearing my Sox cap, I think he would have struck brain. My mother ran me down to the house of a cousin with a car and off for the hospital went we for ten-and-seven stitches in the ol' gob. I wore my brigand's mark with great pride, but Siobhan made it quite clear that I'd be in for more of the same if I kept it up, so we went back to the odd rescue for the months until we moved away.
unrelated, but here's the payoff:

You'd think that would be the end of it but, in my time, I've been a lucky, lucky man. About ten years later, then in the music biz, I stopped by a Boston club where one of my bands was doing a sound check. The boys were peckish, so I ordered some food from a pub I knew nearby. As I came in the door to pick it up, there was a pretty Irish girl nursing a lager at one of the front tables. I nodded and headed to the bar. Wait, could it be?! I turned back in time to see that well-remembered laugh begin to play on the lips of my dear Siobhan. Never so fond a moment was exchanged as the bridge we built 'tween past and present. We laughed and reminisced until I couldn't help but wonder if we shared as vivid a memory of my favorite part to those runaway times. I stammered out only half my question, "Siobhan, do you remember..." before she replied, "Dry humpin' down by the tracks? Sure". It didn't take me long to establish that she was as anxious to take up where we left off as I. Well, the food went cold and the band went hungry, for Siobhan and I were off to her nearby flat for a grunting time fifteen years in the making. Alas, there were still other boys on her stoop, so the once was it, but what a once it was. Now that the highlights of my sexual career are decades gone, my memories are little more than faded flashes, but my recollection of that afternoon with Siobhan are as real and ripe as though it were yesterday. Right now, I've but to stroke the seam Johnny Murphy folded into my head to recall it, fresh as May. A lucky, lucky man.
 
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bigmarc27

Footballguy
Had 212 stitches in my head from a car accident back in '92... I have a scar on the left side of my face running from near the corner of my mouth about 2/3's the way across the cheek towards my ear...sort of follows my would be upper beard line if I had a full beard.  There is a small gap and then a scar running from there up towards the corner of my eye.  There is another scar about an inch long on my scalp from the same accident, but it is pretty much hidden by hair.
Do you have any strong feelings about caped crusaders?

 

mr. furley

Footballguy
Had 212 stitches in my head from a car accident back in '92... I have a scar on the left side of my face running from near the corner of my mouth about 2/3's the way across the cheek towards my ear...sort of follows my would be upper beard line if I had a full beard.  There is a small gap and then a scar running from there up towards the corner of my eye.  There is another scar about an inch long on my scalp from the same accident, but it is pretty much hidden by hair.
damn

 

Galileo

Footballguy
Do you have any strong feelings about caped crusaders?
And those are not my only facial scars...I walked through a plate glass window back in high school which took a good slice of the right side of my nose.  They ended up doing a skin graft from my hip to replace the missing piece of my nose which unfortunately wasn't located in time before I left the scene in an ambulance.  I have about a 1.5 inch scar on the back of my right hand from the same incident.

 

snellman

Footballguy
I have a C shaped scar on the left side of my head from 2 temporal lobectamys.  The first one happened when I was 14 and was performed to remove a cyst that was causing seizures.  I was fine for 17 years then out of the blue started having seizures again including grand mal seizures.  I had a seizure while I was driving that caused my to roll my car through a median and get hit by a car in on coming traffic.  Luckily I was not wearing my seatbelt so I basically laid down on the front seat which saved my life because the roof of my car was even with the hood.  

I broke my collar bone and got my left foot smashed in that accident which is another of my lovely scars because I had to have 7 surgeries on my left foot to get it somewhat back to normal.  During this time I had further tests done with my seizures which determined that scar tissue from the first surgery is what was causing the seizures.  If the technology that was there at that time had been around at the time of my first surgery, the doctor said I wouldn't have needed the 2nd surgery. 

I asked if I had to be awake for the 2nd surgery like I was for the 1st because that was the most horrifying experience I will ever remember.  I had to be awake for the first surgery because they wanted to run tests once they got to the location of the cyst because the seizures were mainly affecting my speech.  I remember them cutting through my skull with what sounded like a jigsaw and also remember drilling holes in my skull to get it out.  There is also a membrane between your skull and brain that can not be numbed and it was the most painful thing I remember. The doctor said I did not have to be awake so I had the surgery done because I was tired of having the seizures.  I have not had one since and am not on any medication.  It has been 16 years since that surgery and I am very thankful.  I used to keep my hair long enough to keep the scar covered but I finally gave up and shaved my head with my receding hair line and thinning hair so I I have been asked about it many times.

 

Da Guru

Fair & Balanced
There are different type of scars.

My dad came home drunk on a Friday night...I was 7-8 years of age and he said Your mom said you were being a smart ###"  I did not even answer as he took his belt off and swung twice..the first buckle hit me and broke my wrist as I was trying to block it...second one hit me in the head and split my head open and I had to get 5 stiches. My dad passed when I was just out of HS so we never had a chance to talk about it..but my mom told me years later that was his biggest regret as I was his only son.

Sad thing is my dad was a great hard working guy who could not handle booze...but the emotional scars I carried never let me get close to him ever again and I knew it killed him inside as we never talked about it.

I don`t remember much from that age but I still remember that incident vividly  like it happened yesterday. My older sister who passed last year was the one who stopped it.

 
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skol asylum

Footballguy
Scars on the inside of my left hand fingers. When I was little I climbed up onto the kitchen table and placed my hand on a hot clothes iron. (Shiny!)

 

PIK95

Footballguy
Just emotional scars mostly.  Almost cut a finger off with glass as a kid.  Small scar probably left there.

 

Mr. Ected

Footballguy
From an earlier post...

At about 13 years old. In a rush to get out to go see Revenge of the Nerds at the movies with the boys in the neighborhood, on a slightly rainy summer day...the guys had just come thru to spray who knows what on the lawn for weeds; I'm running out of the house to dump some trash. I take a slight left on the walkway of large slates in the grass, and slip and fall, catching my knee on the corner of one of them. No pain, just picked up the trash from the small container and continued around the corner to the garage.

I came back a minute later and said to the large group of guys on the porch, who were laughing at my clumsiness “Uh, I think I need to go to the doctor." Looking down at my knee I could see a small circle of white, with a little drip of blood going down my leg. I needed 6-8 stitches, resulting in a nice little scar that is still visible almost 35 years later!
 

SFBayDuck

Footballguy
Fifth grade, on the playground basketball court at recess. I had the ball at the right elbow, faked left and then drove right. The defender went for the fake, then tried to recover and cut me off. Our heads collided and I went down. I don’t remember any pain, just looking up and everything was pink. Classmate by classmate, everyone stopped playing and stared. Balls bounced away, swings stopped, kids dropped from monkey bars. I looked down to see a growing pool of blood, which was pouring out of a cut in my left eyebrow (explaining why things looked pink). Damn do head wounds bleed.

It was split all the way to the skull, at the ER later they brought me a mirror to see it. Ended up with 15 stitches inside and 15 on the surface. Luckily it is right in the middle of the eyebrow so not very visible. 

 

NotSmart

Footballguy
i 've written this up before:

unrelated, but here's the payoff:

You'd think that would be the end of it but, in my time, I've been a lucky, lucky man. About ten years later, then in the music biz, I stopped by a Boston club where one of my bands was doing a sound check. The boys were peckish, so I ordered some food from a pub I knew nearby. As I came in the door to pick it up, there was a pretty Irish girl nursing a lager at one of the front tables. I nodded and headed to the bar. Wait, could it be?! I turned back in time to see that well-remembered laugh begin to play on the lips of my dear Siobhan. Never so fond a moment was exchanged as the bridge we built 'tween past and present. We laughed and reminisced until I couldn't help but wonder if we shared as vivid a memory of my favorite part to those runaway times. I stammered out only half my question, "Siobhan, do you remember..." before she replied, "Dry humpin' down by the tracks? Sure". It didn't take me long to establish that she was as anxious to take up where we left off as I. Well, the food went cold and the band went hungry, for Siobhan and I were off to her nearby flat for a grunting time fifteen years in the making. Alas, there were still other boys on her stoop, so the once was it, but what a once it was. Now that the highlights of my sexual career are decades gone, my memories are little more than faded flashes, but my recollection of that afternoon with Siobhan are as real and ripe as though it were yesterday. Right now, I've but to stroke the seam Johnny Murphy folded into my head to recall it, fresh as May. A lucky, lucky man.
Be sure to scroll back up and read this one if you skipped it because it was too long.

Wikkid's stories are must reads - this one was particularly poignant.

 

Northern Voice

Footballguy
Playing WWF (it predates WWE), with my older brother, bounced off the bed and smashed the floor after failing to take the body slam appropriately.

 

Tecumseh

Footballguy
Was thrown from a Geo tracker going about 70mph, so lots of road rash scars from that one. For many years afterward, I would get a bump just like a zit on my back or face, but wouldn't be able to pop it. Eventually a piece of gravel would be expelled.

Also have a scar about 5" long on my butt cheek from surgery when I was 3 or 4. When I would complain of pain, my parents thought that it was from bowling, because I would never let go of the ball until I had dived down the alley with it. Imagine a 4yr old flying through the air with a bowling ball attached to his fingers. So I'm sure that delayed treatment. It turned out to be a staph infection in my pelvic bone that they had to cut out.

 

Galileo

Footballguy
Was thrown from a Geo tracker going about 70mph, so lots of road rash scars from that one. For many years afterward, I would get a bump just like a zit on my back or face, but wouldn't be able to pop it. Eventually a piece of gravel would be expelled.

Also have a scar about 5" long on my butt cheek from surgery when I was 3 or 4. When I would complain of pain, my parents thought that it was from bowling, because I would never let go of the ball until I had dived down the alley with it. Imagine a 4yr old flying through the air with a bowling ball attached to his fingers. So I'm sure that delayed treatment. It turned out to be a staph infection in my pelvic bone that they had to cut out.
This happened to me after my car accident, but instead of gravel, it was pieces of glass that would work their way out of my forehead.

 

Ranethe

Footballguy
Have a fairly thick/visible scar at top of forehead over left eye. Hair usually hangs over it. 11th grade baseball practice, indoors in gym. We were all lined up along the side taking turns with batting practice/pitching machine. Next thing I know I wake up on the floor looking up at a crowd of faces circling above and staring at me. I vividly remember some kid saying “Ewwww, you can see the bone!”

Kid batting had lost grip on bat and sent it flying. I got one end and another kid next to me got the other end (he was in a coma for 2 days apparently). I got concussion and 9 stitches. Biggest things I remember from it: ambulance person nagging the hell out of me to keep talking on way to hospital (I guess it’s a problem if you fall asleep in that condition?) and the non stop puking when I was in hospital (my nurse was the older sister of a friend). Spent 3 nights in there, spent a good month looking like Frankenstein.

 

rockaction

Footballguy
Had 212 stitches in my head from a car accident back in '92... I have a scar on the left side of my face running from near the corner of my mouth about 2/3's the way across the cheek towards my ear...sort of follows my would be upper beard line if I had a full beard.  There is a small gap and then a scar running from there up towards the corner of my eye.  There is another scar about an inch long on my scalp from the same accident, but it is pretty much hidden by hair.
Jesus.  

 

rockaction

Footballguy
Was thrown from a Geo tracker going about 70mph, so lots of road rash scars from that one. For many years afterward, I would get a bump just like a zit on my back or face, but wouldn't be able to pop it. Eventually a piece of gravel would be expelled.

Also have a scar about 5" long on my butt cheek from surgery when I was 3 or 4. When I would complain of pain, my parents thought that it was from bowling, because I would never let go of the ball until I had dived down the alley with it. Imagine a 4yr old flying through the air with a bowling ball attached to his fingers. So I'm sure that delayed treatment. It turned out to be a staph infection in my pelvic bone that they had to cut out.
My lord.  

 

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