I learned to shoot a shotgun yesterday. Amazingly, my shoulder's not as sore as I thought it might be from the recoil (and not bruised), but it's still very sore. I also learned that I am very wimpy - typing and writing for 3 years of graduate school aren't exactly what you need to get in shape for holding a gun (it uses a lot of tricep muscles in the non-trigger-finger arm, which happens to be my weak arm). And those clay pigeons are tricky to shoot ... whenever I hit one (rare), I would look at my dad in amazement, like, "How did that happen?"
As we were leaving the shooting range, I met a girl and her dad. She's been shooting since she was seven. So, naturally, she's unmeasurably better than I am, not to mention the fact that she can hold up her own gun for more than a few seconds! But more amusing was the conversation we had (scattered among other bits of conversation, like about my new sandals).
Her: "Do you go to Senior (high school)?"
Me: "I did, but I graduated."
"Oh, you look like a Senior girl. Girls at Senior tend to be more laid back than girls at West."
"I take it you go to West?" (I note that this girl wearing a shooting vest with pockets packed full of ammo might feel like she doesn't fit in at her high school, where the girls are less casual than at my alma mater.)
"Do you know _____? I think she might have graduated around the same time as you did."
"When did she graduate?"
"About two years ago."
"No, I don't know her. I graduated in 1998."
"Holy cow! You're so old! ... Well, you'll look great when you get older."
Well, maybe she didn't exactly say the italicized part, but it was written all over her face. The latter part was a nice comeback. So the moral of the story is: I look young, and I think it's mostly because I'm smaller than your average white girl from Montana. And I fear that my tendency to soak up sun (the blessing of an olive complexion, inherited from both parents) will not make me look great when I actually AM old!