I have a quite small scar above my eye, but I have a huge purple scar from where I had an emergency apendic removal and had to have my insides cleaned to remove the gangreen. I am also scarred from all the drips I had when C-Diff.

When I was 14 I fell asleep in my bed with a snake light apparently under the covers, I woke to my mom screaming about smoke I sat up and now have this 2" circular burn on my upper right thigh During my time in the army I was shot in the face with what is called simunition (bullets made of clay and plastic) kinda like paintballing only more painful (if it hits the flesh) and even harder to tell if you have been hit unless someone shoots you in the face with one at basically point blank range.
I have another scar on my left hand where I accidentally scratched myself in a fight.
I also have one on the back of my neck where I had a mole removed by freezing it off, twice.

i had pyloric stenosis also as a baby. Scar is 4" and more noticable than docs ever admitted. i'm 45 now... Like to compare pics

Ive got lots on my hands from amateur boxing and various fights, as well as one on my forehead from a small lump of glass embedding itself in my forehead

One under my left eye which I got during a fight, when I was ten years old against someone older than me. The other kid picked up a rusty pipe and hit me with it. It's really small. The skin merely tore a little from the hit. The pain was from it hitting, not the skin tearing.

One on my elbow from a dog jumping at me (merrily), prompting me to use my arms to block his clawing.

One on my knee from playing soccer, getting tackled and falling on a rock that slightly pierced my kneecap.

Burns on the bottom of my feet from stupidly walking on rock floors hours into their cooking in the Egyptian sun. That was a great vacation. I ran into the pool and I can attest that I heard, or vividly imagined a hiss as my feet rapidly cooled down.

A dent in my thumb for another stupid thing I did. I was fucking around with my knife at night and cut a deep gash vertically into my thumb, about half-an-inch in. It didn't hurt much, so I quickly patched it up with band-aid and sealed the wound with bandages and duct tape. Weeks later, the wound was sealed, no pain was present, and my thumb had a dent in it. Good reminder not to be stupid.

Stretch marks on my stomach, legs and arms. The ones on my arms are actually from working out and quickly growing muscles, as I started doing that when I was 12. The other ones are from being overweight.

I have no fingers, dont ask how im typing this..

i got an old scar from when i had kidney stones removed when i was a boy. part from that only minor scrapes.

my elbows are covered in scars from when i was little and used to play on the floor. would you count a bone sticking out as a scar?

Quite often I wake up and have weird scratches across my chest, in perfectly straight lines.

For some reason, scars on my body tend to heal pretty quick. I guess I'm durable or something.

One time when I was about six, I saw someone on TV riding their bike no-handed with their eyes closed. I promptly tried it, and of course I left a fair chunk of my face on the sidewalk, and about six weeks later it looked good as new.

The one persistent scar I have is from the time I was run over by a car when I was eight (and not just hit by one, my leg was literally RUN OVER), and I needed surgery on my knee. I have a tiny scar on my knee, that is numb to all sensations, to this day. That's all.

Got a fair few.

One across the top of my wrist from having a ganglion cyst removed.
A few near that from falling out of a tree while drunk.
Another one not too far from those from falling off my bicycle when I was younger. Also got one on my thumb from the same accident - had a chunk of glass embedded in it, right on the knuckle, ouchies. Some down the back of my thigh, again from the same accident - gravel rash!
One on my hip from a punch biopsy.
One on my knee from falling off my motorcycle a couple of years ago. Nothing cool, unfortunately, I'd just turned the corner into the driveway so I was only going about 15 mph at the time!!
One on my calf from getting shot with an air rifle.
A few dotted about from chicken pox when I was little.

All I can remember at the moment!

I have a few on my hands I cant remember how i got those, I have a long one down my back from an accident when I was little, one on my chest from a fight and several on my nose from a fall i had a few years ago.

-Almost lost my left thumb with a saw, now I got a huge scar on my hand. It doesn't help when I'm on a date.
-A car pop right in front of me while I was riding my bike. Now I beleive I can fly. Also finished with 3 scars from sergical pins
-I got 2 on my heads. Now people wonder why I can be fucked up sometime.
-Got one in a fight, fell on somethin sharp.
-Cutted my knee on a small piece of window that was hidden in the grass. (We were repairing a window, we just didnt tought that some piece were around).

One on the back of my head from when I cracked it clean open on a chair and another on my chin from when it split open.

I have one on my right knee where I fell playing football in a car park in Canada and grazed it really weirdly so it still looks kind of purple, one on my forehead off where I fell down some stairs when I was about 6 head first and by far the best is my TB injection which, after becoming infected, turned into a small, pronounced pink lump apparently called a keloid. Lovely.

I have loads. mainly down to the fact I refuse to go to emergency rooms to get stitches. most noticeable on the right side of my forehead, jumped off an old tractor when I was young my shoe lace was caught in one of the pedals so I landed head first on a rock. A few faint lines across my forearms from something stupid. big noticeable one on my right knee fell over in a field didn't notice till I got home it didn't hurt at all oddly and then just hundreds on my hands I wish I knew what they were all from the only one I can actually remember is this pretty little pattern from the tip of a hot glue gun, technology friend with shaky hand you get the idea.

I also have to massive lumps on either foot, I'm informed this is most likely where I broke them and they healed incorrectly but like I say I don't do hospitals.

I have 3 scars

One on my left thumb from playing on a pallet jack when my family owned a supermarket. I was pulling it around and I didn't move my hand in time so the handle crushed my thumb against a freezer. Split it open to the bone.

I have one across my stomach from crashing my bike into a fence. It was a flat topped fence and I slide along the edge. Strange thing is that it cut my stomach open but not the t-shirt I was wearing. There was paint on the t-shirt though.

My other scar is on my finger. I got that trying to steal golf balls from a driving range. Never thought the bottom of a fence would have been that sharp.

i have a scar on my wrist from a cigarette

Stubee:
I have no fingers, dont ask how im typing this..

You type with your nose?

I have a scar on my right leg. I was running over to my neighboor's house to check out his new video game, and i tripped, and my leg was cut on a brick wall. The funny part, I felt little to no pain, and as soon as it happened, i got up and continued running to my friend's house.

I've got a blox jellyfish sting across the underside of my left forearm. It nearly killed me because i was only five when it happened. That was 13 years ago and it still hasn't faded completely.

A slash down my leg from when I ran through a glass door last year (it was so clear i didnt see it)

A mark on the top of my right hand when i nailed myself to a bit of wood with a nailgun during wood work at school (by accident of course)

But the one scare i wish i still had is the slash under my right eye from when i was hit in the face with a bag fill with broken glass. The girls loved the huge scab under my eye but it healed and you cant see it any more! NOT COOL!

One on the right leg, one on the left. Both are from medical procedures. The right one is from a less-interesting muscle biopsy, while the left combined the twin rotten, engorged fruits of poisonous infections and electric needles. I will explain!

When I was eight I would sleep all the time. A nice passtime, one I engage in to great success even now, but one that challenged my mother's image of the happy childlike running, jumping and self-mutilation I should be doing at that age, so off to the hospital I went. The swollen joints and ungainly rash probably didn't help either. The doctors jabbed me with several instruments, made tetchy diagnoses of everything from poison ivy to lupus, and then finally admitted that they were just damn well baffled and locked me in the hospital. Every day I was subjected to ever more uncomfortable and esoteric medical procedures (and free stuff donated by terrified relatives). They took stuff out, they put stuff in, they drained approximately twice my body weight of blood. I got to play video games all day and get wheeled about emergency-style on a nice comfy gurney. It was pretty neat, except for the minor condition of being sick and the increasingly more dire predictions as to what was wrong with me.

At about the tail end of my little stay I was told that I would be going in for a test. This was no problem, I was used to how things were at this point. A nurse set me in a wheelchair and wheeled me down into the deepest stygian sub-basement of the hospital, carting me past increasingly more ancient and terrifying medical equipment and the occasional rushed resident or nightgown-clad stumbling inmate. Eventually I was left in a waiting room in the care of my mother while the nurse puttered into an adjacent room to prepare the machinery or summon the demons or whatnot. Doctors gathered. I was informed that this would probably hurt a little, and due to the nature of the test, I couldn't be sedated.

It was when they brought out the straps that I got worried. I quitted the wheelchair and was guided into the other room where I was faced with an entirely unassuming medical table and neutral glob of machinery. I did not figure the bundles at the end of the bed for restraints until the nurse started actually strapping me down. Here's a tip: if a doctor says it "might" hurt "a little" and then proceeds to strap you the fuck in like you're about to be launched down a rollercoaster, just pass out. Bite your tongue until you choke on the blood. Go to your happy place. Trust me, it's better there.

I got poked once or twice in the legs and arms, marked indelibly, and then stuck with needles. Needles attached to wires. Which went into the now charmingly beeping and glowing machine. Which began to pump my muscles full of searing electricity. The pain was like nothing I've felt before or since - it went everywhere and there was nothing I could do. My entire body jerked and spasmed; I felt my muscles expand like the Hulk and contract again. They had strapped my legs in but not my arms, and drugged as I was by pain I saw absolutely nothing wrong with taking that opportunity to claw the fuck out of everyone nearby. There weren't enough doctors to man the machine and hold me down. They had to enlist my mother.

Eventually it was over. As a reward for my pain I was given... three small dinosaur-shaped erasers. And, as it turns out, an infection in one of the needle-wounds that ate away at the skin surrounding it and resulted in a permanent dent in my flesh. Oh, and the hate. The hate for everything that wants to love or help me. The hate that burns like lightning in my muscles, weeping and whispering and waiting for the opportunity to claw and gouge and kill.

I want my goddamn lollipop.

I'm really amazed at this.

I have a very high pain tollerance.
I heal fast.
I don't even bruise falling onto the framing of a deck onto my outer thigh and upper arm.
I have no scars but I do have some stories.

Once I accidentally cut myself with a razor blade down to the bone at about 10. It didn't hurt then. It was on the ends of my pointer and pinky fingers on my right hand. I never told anybody and continually lifted up the skin-flap to see if it still hurt. It did then but that didn't stop my from trying again five minutes later. It healed within a couple days.
If you looked at my fingers you wouln't even know.

One time I was riding my bike with another pair of shoes tied together and hanging over the handle bars. They got caught in the front wheel and next thing I know I'm doing a faceplant onto concrete, my bike flys over me and my seat smacks me in the back of the head.
I couldn't get up because I was laughing to hard. No scrapes even.

If I ever get a scab I constantly pick at it. But never got any scars.

Compared to those I haven't had anything worse so I would obvioulsy have no scars from it.

P.S. I only remember ever having one bruise and that was when I was really young so I don't know how I got it.

I have one on my left elbow from an incident involving waterbombs, more water, a road and a very big guy. Must I say more?

I have another on my chin from my triple-pirhouette-faceplant ice skating accident, caused my me going a little too fast, and a toddler who was going the wrong direction.

I have a scar that is quite noticable slightly to the left of my left eye which was caused by having my head smashed onto the side of a bed when I was like 3-4. The other one I is a little above my right eye, where I got smashed by a pole (Final Fight style) by some little kid.

I also just recently had two of my fingers (middle and ring) of my right had rolled up in a car window.

They were completely purple but were fine within the hour.

One one my arm. got cut in some sharp thingy in a store.

I got two on my face: one on me right temple, the other on my left jaw. Both are teethmarks from when I was attacked by a dog when I was little. Not exactly the manly, heroic scars I'd hope for, but I can always make up a story about them at a party.

I have a condsiderable amount of scars unfortunately. The first I ever recieved was from splitting my head open after being pushed backwards onto a radiator at school in Class One (reception its called now... kindergarden for all you none UK peoples.) Actually got in trouble for it, apparently that constitutes fighting... I had no idea minding your own business and suddenly being pushed over was a fight.
Anyway, thats enough of that, this isn't http://www.playgroundlaw.com after all

I have a scar on my left hand from when I slipped and hit myself with a hatchet. I have a few on my elbows from bike accidents. And I have one on my stomach when I had chicken pox, and wouldn't stop scratching.

I've had stitches four times....

2 face, 1 knee, 1 toe split in half....

Me and a friend were at a field surrounded by barbed wire, and one of the poles was broken at the bottom, so he pulled it down with his foot, and released it, like a catapult.
The barbed wire zipped through my right upper wrist and I didn't even notice until the blood came gushing out. No pain at all, just a really long and deep cut.

That happened like 2 years ago, and now I have an awesome white diagonal scar on my wrist.

I've got one on the back of my left hand from being bitten by a dog. There's a small one under my lower lip from when I fell onto the corner of a coffee table as a toddler, though I don't really remember getting that one. Then there's one on my right index finger from a hot-glue accident, and one on my inner-right thigh from the same accident.

I am so covered in scars it looks like i just have a tan

It gets me the ladies

Let's see, I've got about 6 to 10 small ones on my hands that I lose and find every now and then from all the stupid stuff I did when I was a little kid. Everything from blowing up branches to melting army men (and then having the wax drip off and land on my thumb and burn a nice little circle scar into me).

I've got one in my knee from when I fell off my bike and ripped a chunk of skin the size of a nickel off.

I have one on my stomach from the appendix surgery. Only about an inch and a half long (3 to 4cm). It would have been three smaller ones, but the doctor couldn't find my appendix using that camera on a stick thing, so half way through they just spliced them into one big one and dug around. Turns out the jerk was hiding behind my large intestine. Who knew.