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Posted on Jun 20, 2013 in Dear Diary | 22 comments

Gone Shootin’

From the girliest post you’ll ever read, to… the second girliest. Hahaha, we’re talking about guns today, y’all!


Fact: Firing a gun was singlehandedly the most terrifying experience of my life.

Of course, that being said, I can’t deny the fact that there’s something about the act of shooting a firearm that does something to you. People say it makes you feel powerful, and it does. Sure, it’s a baby-rabbit-with-a-false-sense-of-bravado kind of powerful, a FEARFUL kind of powerful, but powerful nonetheless. Despite all the safety rules that both the technicians AND my boyfriend were drilling into me (always keep the barrel pointed downrange, never point a gun at something you don’t intend to kill, finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot, etc, etc), it was still a sobering experience to hold a gun in my hands. And
the moment my finger actually pulled the trigger and I felt the snap of the pistol and the vibrations that shook my whole body and I finally opened my eyes again (okay, not really, I shot with at least one eye open at all times… probably)… well, you get the idea.


So all of you who have been shooting guns since you were in diapers are probably rolling your eyes at me right now. “What a drama queen!” I know, I know. But try to step back just for a moment to the first time you shot a gun, and tell me you weren’t just a little bit scared, too. That’s what I thought. Granted, I may have reacted just SLIGHTLY more desperately than most of you… I mean, most of you probably didn’t cry your first time you went to the shooting range. But still!

Yes, I cried. (Are you really all that surprised?) But TO BE FAIR, it was (primarily) in specific reaction to the blazing hot shell casing that flew up out of the gun and DOWN THE FRONT OF MY DRESS, rolling all the way down my body and leaving me with two painful burn marks. Because 1) evidently it didn’t occur to me that wearing a dress to the shooting range might be a stupid idea, and 2) that is exactly the kind of thing that would only happen to me. Le sigh.

ANYWAY. Let’s talk deets.

So, listed by the amount of terror they induced in me, the guns I shot were as follows: a .22 pistol (my favorite of the bunch), a 9mm handgun (shocking, scary, and surprisingly hard to shoot – especially given it’s the most common kind of handgun), and an assault rifle. Actually, if I”m being honest, the 9mm was the one that was scariest — I seriously think I was better at shooting the AR than the 9mm. It just took a lot more effort to pull the trigger than I thought it would, and that first shot kicked back so much (esp. in comparison to the .22) that it really freaked me out. I know, I’m a pansy.

The .22, on the other hand, was actually fun. The gun itself was nice and felt light (actually it was fairly heavy, but it barely had any kickback and was the easiest for me to control). Buuuut, alas, Sean tells me that a .22 bullet wouldn’t be enough to stop a crack-enraged crazy person and/or zombie from charging at me — in fact, it might just make him (or her — I’m all for equality hahahahaha) more mad. So I shouldn’t get too comfortable with this lady pistol. Which is a shame, because I actually feel like I was getting pretty good by the end!


Being that this was (obviously) my first time at a shooting range EVER, I don’t have any basis for comparison, but I think it was a pretty good first experience (burn marks aside). Next time, I’m coming with a screenshot of The Walking Dead to do some target practice on though. I mean, I figure if I’m gonna be shooting guns (it is Sean’s favorite hobby, after all), I can at least make sure I’m prepared for the zombie apocalypse!


So, even through all the fear and the tears and general dread that surrounded the experience, it may surprise you to hear that I’m not completely put off from the idea of shooting again. Like I said, the .22 was actually kind of fun once I got the hang of it, I just don’t think I was prepared for the actual feeling of what it’s like to shoot a heavier gun. It’s serious business, y’all — it actually takes quite a lot of effort to pull that trigger all the way in. I imagine I’ll need just a bit of time to recover from the experience since I am obviously a complete and total wuss, but I’m pretty interested in continuing to learn how to handle myself properly. Plus, Sean’s a pretty great teacher. (Aww.) And hey! Maybe one day I’ll even find myself with a pretty pink gun of my own, hahahaha.

Ever been shootin’ before? Paint me a word picture.

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