Always Wear Heels To A Gun Match

I’ve been with my boyfriend for seven years now. We always spend our birthdays with our family. Partly because we’re both always to poor to do anything really fun, and partly because we genuinely love it. This year was different. It was up to me, and solely me, to plan something to do.

I knew everything that anything that instantly came to my mind — museum hopping, a romantic dinner, seeing Star Wars for the second time — would be a bust. This had to be something all about him. Something that I would never in a million year be expected to plan. A shooting range.

The idea was so unlike-me that I knew he would love it. We’re completely different people when it comes to hobbies. I like a great book, he like video games. I want an all-natural, gluten free restaurant, and he wants a steak house. I guess opposites really do attract.

So I drove to the range, planned the night, and had it all ready. That was, until it came down to my outfit. Seeing as I am the least likely candidate to ever pass through the doors of a shoot range, I had a few options. I could either…

  1. Go in like a pro with a big pair of boots, my own earplugs, and my new bomber jacket that is clearly for show.
  2. Quickly run to the store and buy some camo that I’d wear once, never take a photo in, and then burn as soon as I got home.
  3. Own my style, and see what happened.

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I went for number three. The way I see it, you should never change who you are. Not for a man. Not for an experience. And definitely not for a gun range.

Naturally, I wore heeled boots. I paired it with jeans, an all-black sweater, and some dainty jewelry. I did wear my hair up though. It’s something I don’t typically do. I wanted to evoke the sporty vibe while also letting everyone know that I wasn’t going to change who I was for a 30 minute shooting sesh.

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And you know what? I wouldn’t change a thing. I ended up feeling completely comfortable in a place that I had every reason to stick out like a sore thumb. As I was walking out, a woman who had been watching looking over and whispered, “You looked really great out there.” I like to think it was my heeled boots making me look more badass than my terrible aiming.

Never, ever, will I be going to a shooting range again. My boyfriend had fun; it just definitely wasn’t for me. But I will be always be able to say that I rocked it — heels and all.



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