The only scar I really have, and it's pathetic (the only way you can see it is if you shove your nose under my face) is a white line across my chin from where I split it open.
I was about 10 and was riding around on this little plastic scooter. I was outside with my younger brother and an even younger boy who lived a few doors down. It was this little boy's scooter and we were mucking around. Suddenly, my foot caught caught in the front axle of this thing and I shot head first over the handlebars landing smack onto my chin. It bloody hurt. I stood up, yowling and my brother and the little boy froze. There was a pause. and then my brother pointed and said, "look. blood."
I went wailing down the steps into the back door, my voice verberating down each step and my mum can galloping from the kitchen sensing the distress in my voice. She panicked way too much for the cut that it was. She rammed a tissue to my chin, threw me into the car and sped off to the hospital. I was whimpering and feeling intensely sorry for myself the whole way. My mum said in the car that I would probably have to have stitches, to which I replied I wanted to go to sleep, meaning that I didn't want to be awake when they jabbed a needle and thread repeatedly into the bottom of my face. But mum thought I meant I was tired and so was led to believe I had concussion. I couldn't be bothered to correct her. But in the end my chin was just glued together in a&e and I had this large plaster stuck over it.