…Battle scars

1. Heads. I have a scar on my top lip from when I was 2 years old. I was, conveniently enough, in the doctor’s surgery waiting room. I had a dummy in my mouth when another, older, taller kid came along and hugged me. Awww. Except the dummy’s plastic edge cut into my top lip. Imagine my mother’s delight at holding me down while the doctor did stitches. I screamed the place down and bled everywhere – including down the front of Mum’s white top. When it was done, I imagine the relief for mother and doctor would’ve been amazing. Amazing but brief. I wiped my mouth and managed to pull the stitches out. I deserve this scar, man.

2. Shoulders. I have a scar on my shoulder from the time I ran a little too close to a protruding nail in a very old, very dusty theatre. Oh fffff…iddle-dee-dee, that will require a tetanus shot.

3. Knees and… Hands. I stabbed my hand on a twig while downhill skateboarding (granted, there were three of us on it at the time) and still have the scar. I also had one of those big serated metal toilet paper dispensers fall off the wall and gash my left hand. It’s great that that’s the most prominent scar on my hands too – not at all embarrassing to explain. I accumulate wildly random scars on my hands, which makes me wonder if I should be allowed to leave the house – or even my couch – without gardening gloves on.