I have a scar on my right elbow. The story of how I got it reads something like a children's book in its repetitiveness.
When I was in grade 1 I fell off my bike, ripping up my elbow. Mom made a bandage of toilet paper and tape, for we didn't have any band aids big enough. All was fine until I tried to remove it later; it had fused with the scab. I was forced to re-open the wound to get the bandage off. We eventually got it to scab over without band aids. Later that week in school, I was playing on the jungle gym during recess. I jumped off a platform, but landed on my elbow. The wound of course tore open, making a bloody mess of my jacket. I had to go to the office to get the gash cleaned up; they even washed my jacket. Later in the week, my class was downfield for gym. It had recently rained, and the ground was incredibly muddy. We were running laps when I slipped, landing on my elbow, and tearing it open yet again.
Within only a week, I had managed to rip open my elbow 4 times.