If you have been hearing stories from a certain obese, holier-than-thou nun about a third year student who was so disgustingly profane in her autobiography, you now have the unique privilage of meeting the actual specimen. I do not welcome recrimination at this moment--perhaps later when I have had sufficiently caffeinated myself--because I need to rant. 

I would NOT change my autobiography just to suit your PC standards. It was my autobiography, not yours. I talked about books because books have become a big part of my life; I said I'm lazy because I am; I called a patient a burden because I felt that she is, which reminds me--don't fucking dare tell me what I should be feeling. Your I-wonder-how-your-CI's-will-react-to-this-particular-piece-of-information threats are so low, even for you.

I am not ashamed of what I wrote. If you managed to read through the entirity of it, and not merely played the I spy a cuss word game, then you would know that I am a morally decent person. You do not deserve to read my autobiography, and I am not about to encourage your bigoted view of the world by kissing your pompous ass and changing it.

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Anyway, there is a bright spot in all of this: I have inadvertently created my legacy in this college. The bitch would no doubt talk about  my autobiography for as long as she lives because she's that obsessive a person. I guess this is what could be called infamy.