Years ago I woke up at my aunt and uncle’s house and it smelled like someone took a shyt in the living room. My aunt said I made chittlins for you.
I told her I don’t eat that. Then she tried to guilt me into eating it. I said nah. I don’t eat pig guts. She was hurt, but fukk that.
One of the last times I visited my step-mom she cooked pigs feet.
I don’t know why. Growing up, she never made that garbage. I’m guessing her new husband eats that crap.