Confessions of a Muslim Teen

Chapter 1- A very rubbish introduction.

If I ever won an oscar, this shall be my speech:
"I would like to thank my arms for always being by my side. My legs, for always supporting me, and my fingers, because I can always count on them.
Of course, I would also like to thank my hips, for not lying."
Of course, there's no reason for me to win an oscar. At all. The only type of acting I do is when I pretend I'm sleeping when I'm actually sobbing through the last sequel of Divergent.
And to be honest, I think my mom knows I'm pretending to be asleep.
When it comes to singing, my skills do not go that far. I sound like a strangled whale seeing an underwater rat for the first time. Impossible and stupid.
But then again, I could win an oscar for: "The Best Teen Failure Award."

Anyway, enough about oscars. Let's talk a bit about me.
I mean, c'mon, who wouldn't want to know about this ravishing, beautiful, accomplished, girl? (Please not the sarcasm).

My name might or might not be Grace Taylor. Let's just keep it at Grace. I ain't going to flood you with difficult Arab names. (#relatable).
I'm a 14 year old Muslim teen.
No, I am not a terrorist.
No, I do not wear a towel around my head.
No, I am not oppressed.
I'm pretty much free.
Actually, I even celebrate my existence my waking up every morning to pray while no one's awake in the neighbourhood.
So no, to answer your questions, I'm not a oppressed muslimah who spends her life in the kitchen cooking.
Heck, I can't even make toast without burning it.

To be honest with you guys, I don't even know what this book is about. I truly do not know.
But I'm just gonna go with the flow and make du'aas (prayers).