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That's my favorite. It's convex. Moving branches about in my back yard with my father. (And for those of you who were curious, the crocheted bracelet is an article of hobo magic gifted to me by a swell friend of mine, Ruby.)

If you'll note, there are actually three scars in this picture. Two of them overlap. The small rectangular one to the left of the long one is the result of my accidentally branding my self. My friend had a forge set up at a folk festival and I was hammering away and accidentally touched my leg with my still sorta hot piece

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In the dead of night on the loveliest of summer evenings great beasts come forth from the darkness, seeking man's blood. Sinking long proboscises into our flesh they then feast and leave behind itching welts and a niggling in our minds. To tear further at the flesh they have already defiled and so quell an itch with a sting, or to heed a mother's warning, "Don't scratch." Alas, I am weakened in my sleep and find my bedclothes blood stained when I wake .

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I haven't a clue how this happened. I long despised it and wished it away. No longer.

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I had been reading up on scarification recently when I bumped my arm on a pan of cookies. Perfect opportunity to experiment! I sloughed off the burnt skin and put some balsamic vinegar in it. Just hurt like hell. Then I tried blue food coloring and made it look super gnarly. None of that healed into the scar though. Another day...