scars, I kinda like them

Recently while flipping through some random magazine, I saw an in-depth article on how to get rid of or heal wounds, without those pesky scars.  Now I understand that in some cases scars can be frustrating, especially if they are large enough or in visible enough locations that they cause embarrassment.  But for me, I love my scars.  First, scar tissue is actually stronger than normal tissue, which means one could potentially become a superhero if one could find a way to (in a none gross manner) replace ones skin with scar tissue. Second, scars are like built in memories, they instant call to mind the places and circumstances of their creation.  So here in no particular order are my own favorite scars:

Knee – Who doesn’t have at least one memorable scar on their knee from childhood shenanigans.  The reason I like this particular one is that I have have such a vivid memory of acquiring it.  I don’t remember how old I was, probably in that 8-10 range.  But we were at a family summer camp in PA and I was biking (probably still with my training wheels on) around a gravel curve and totally wiped out.  This is probably memorable in that I was by myself when it happened, so I had to do the inspection of wound area all by myself and contain my tears until I reached my parents.  Also this scar is kinda cool because I managed to actually gouge a small hole in my skin via gravel, which makes for a very cool raised scar.

Back of left hand, fourth knuckle – This scar isn’t highly visible, it is more of a difference in skin tone, but once again the method of acquiring it is the best part.  When I spent a summer in Northern Ireland during my college years, I got to experience rock climbing for the first time.  Despite my lack of innate ability and rather crappy first time experience (late night, short climb, lack of headlamp, but paid off in the final result of spending a night on a cliff), I was totally up for another shot during one of the final weekends of the summer.

This was totally different, sunny, warm (or the quite cool Northern Ireland version of that temperature) and much less steep.  In fact it was more like a rock scramble with some climby bits.  This time I was paired up with a guy who had been instructing rock climbers for years and therefore was both patient with my bumbling and incredibly helpful.  At one point on the climb I managed to graze my hand on some of the rock, although I don’t think I even realized it till I noticed the blood after reaching the summit.  I am guessing the only reason I actually got a scar was because the knuckle is pretty stubborn about healing.   Yet I love having a visible reminder of that incredible afternoon.  Also I am pretty sure that this photo is from the return hike that very day:

Side of left hand – I talk about this one in greater detail in a post from my Crazy Summer Trip 07.  But long story short = Abby goes snorkeling by herself, cuts hand on coral, helped by friendly Egyptian man, realizes stupidity of her decisions, feels grateful not hurt far worse.

So how about the rest of you, any favorite scars?