By Poisyn LaRue
"Your girl does WHAT?!"
"She shoots. Fairly good might I add"
This was an ACTUAL conversation my ex-sniper boyfriend had with one of his friends this past week while on a road trip to Texas. His friend could not grasp that face that the little five foot five and three quarters (that matters) tall, purple haired girl that he is dating can also shoot out the center of an ace at about 200 yards (it may be closer to 150 yards now, it's been a while since I've done that particular parlor trick).
When he told me this, I started laughing hysterically. Why was the idea of a girl being able to shoot on par (and even outshoot some) men? In what invisible rule book did it say I wasn't allowed to handle weapons? Cause I think I need to find that rule book and use it as kindling!
I've been around firearms my whole life. I got my first rifle at around six or seven years old. It was a hand-me-down from my father, his old .22 caliber single shot, but I thought it was pretty awesome. Every autumn we would go to the shooting range the police used and I would get to shoot a 9mm hand gun. As I got older, I was allowed to shoot the "big kid" guns, which included a black powder pistol and riffle and a shot gun. Even if they are not terribly accurate, I loved the spread of the pellets from the shotgun, the tiny *tink* they made hitting the metal targets. This became a tradition of many years.
In 2010 I decided to move to "redneck country" also known as south of the Mason-Dixon line. I have always been a Southern girl at heart, so it was like moving home for me. I met some cool people and got to shoot some even cooler guns, including a P90 with which I immediately fell in love. My then boyfriend had a Remington 870 w/ Nebo tac flashlight/red laser combo, Winchester Razor sling, and aluminum shell caddy and a Glock 21 w/ Viridian X5L. We would go out to the stretch of land behind his friend's flower nursery and shoot all matters of fun things. We set up targets made out of whatever we could find. An old oil container filled with sand and water. Pieces of scrap metal. Wooden planks. At one point we had an old, rusted out car shell. You would be surprised how easily bullets pass through cars. Occasionally we would take the kids with us (he had a son and I had my daughter). Both children knew gun safety. I had taught them how to check if a gun was loaded, always point it away from everyone, and not to put your finger on the trigger until you knew you were going to shoot.
A few people say this makes me a bad mother, but I disagree. They know guns are not toys and I think this takes away from the whole "untouchable" desire that children tend to get when you tell them "no".
So anyway, back on topic. Yeah I am a girl. I wear heels and skirts and have pretty glorious 42DD boobs. And I like weapons. A lot. I'd rather spend a day at a shooting range or bow range then at the mall ogling over things that will never fit me because, well, I have shape. So instead, I think it is much more productive to spend my time learning a skill that will help protect my family in crisis.
This has nothing to do with the fact that the current love of my life is ex-military or that I play entirely more Call of Duty then I probably should. This has to do with the fact that I value my independence. I like being able to say, "Yeah, I can hunt and support my family if the economy goes to hell tomorrow". but that doesn't mean I don't simply ENJOY shooting for sport.
Target shooting that is, I'm a firm believer that hunting should only be done if you plan to eat what you kill, never just for sport. I'm a firm believer in "living outside the social norm". Anyone who knows me will tell you this. SO Is anyone really surprised that I can disassemble, clean, reassemble, load and fire most guns in the same way that some woman can arrange flowers or knit a scarf (neither of which I can do!)
Madame Poisyn LaRue is a self-described "square peg in a round hole." She has an Associates of Science in Visual Communications and is pursuing her Associate of the Arts in Theater with a minor in Music. Although she's at home on the stage, she's just as comfortable under the hood of a Chevy, covered in oil and grease but still wearing 5" heels. You can follow the Madame on Facebook or at her website and of course, here on I Feel Delicious!