So here are the facts about me: I grew up in Lakeland Florida, with family in Lake City Florida (Both very 'redneck' towns in FL), but do not have even a trace of a southern accent. I love country music and line dancing, but my 'country attire' could not look more poserish. I do love to fish, love a man in a truck and have no problem with 'huntin,' though I've never participated in the sport myself. I say all of these things to help you realize the ridiculousness of this photo. I'm wearing flannel and holding the gun so tight it left grip marks in my hand.
I made the nice gentleman working behind the gun case rocking sleeve tattoos go through the proper safety procedures with me several times. I read through the 'safety manual' (ie, a sheet of paper basically telling you not to shoot yourself or anyone else) and then made my friend who was with me show me all the steps again before I would even touch it. Finally it was time to stop being a wuss and man up.
I loaded up the magazine with bullets one by one. I slowly slide the magazine into the base and clicked the safety. Whoa, I have a loaded gun in my hand. This is a serious rush and I still haven't done anything yet. I place my hands around the grip, relaxed my shoulders, spread my feet apart and lined my eye along the barrel. My index finger slowly slides from resting on the barrel down to the trigger. I pull back and there it was, the explosion and kick back I was waiting for. I look up and see I hit my target. I made that hole. What a rush.
I am proud to say that I made it on the target for each shot. My friends and I each took turns and when it was my last turn up before we ran out of bullets, I made a perfect 10. It was a great way to end the experience. I can see how people get addicted and find it as a great stress release. However, I think for this wanna be hick girl, I'll just continue with my respect for those who handle these weapons and sit on the sidelines.