It’s true that what others think of me is ultimately none of my business.

But it’s also true that it is my business.

Here’s an example.

I recently went to the great city of San Francisco.

While I was there, I noticed I was getting a lot of stares.

This isn’t uncommon for me, and it’s been going on for a long time. My gender-rich identity and expression tends to stand out.

Is that a boy? Or a girl? Or both? Or neither?

I’ve gotten screams in women’s bathrooms. Inquiries about my gender from rude teenagers. “Can I help you sir, I mean, ma’am, I’m so sorry!” from cashiers.

I’m used to it. And I understand it.

If I saw someone who looked like me, I’d want to stare too.

When I was younger, I was sure the stares meant I was ugly. Or a freak.

Sometimes, if I caught someone staring, I’d stare back at them. It was my way of saying, “I see that you’re staring at me and could you please stop it, thank you very much.”

But the older I get, and the more comfortable I become with my gender-rich status, the less I’m bothered by people staring.

And the other day? In San Francisco? I noticed how far I’ve come.

Instead of assuming that folks were staring at me because I was an ugly freak, I was pretty sure they were staring at me because I was – not to sound crazy vain, but here we go –

Looking gooooooooood.

Truly. I was feelin’ myself, as the kids say. I was wearing a sweater and jacket that I love. The color of my shoelaces matched the color of my T-shirt. I was sporting a short haircut with a little red fringe on top.

I knew I looked different. And gender-rich. And good.

Now, I still have no idea why those folks were staring at me.

I may have had a long train of TP behind me. I may have had ketchup stains all down my shirt. (We went to a diner in SF, so, possible.) I may have been looking so satisfied and smug with my good lookin’ self that they thought something was wrong with me.

It doesn’t matter.

What other people think of me is none of my business, but because I’m a human being, I’m going to be telling stories about what people might be thinking about me.

It’s part of the price of admission for being human.

So why not tell good stories instead of crappy ones?

I wasn’t purposely trying to do this in SF the other day. I did it because of the evolution around my gender expression. Which, in my case, is the result of a spiritual practice that has taught me to be increasing self-loving.

But even though I wasn’t engaging in positive self-talk on purpose, I still learned something.

If I do start telling crappy stories about what others might be thinking? I can change them to positive and productive ones instead.

If the stories I’m telling are particularly devastating, I can elicit help from others in crafting better ones. But craft I can!

What other people think of me is none of my business.

But what is my business is the stories I make up about what they might be thinking.

And I have total control over those stories!

Indeed, I’m the story conceiver, editor, and producer. I’m the frickin’ show runner.

Why not assume that people think I’m fabulous?

Spirit thinks I am. And there’s no better authority than that.

The more I tell wonderful tales about myself and others, the deeper my alignment with Spirit.

Let the stories begin!

What’s your experience with telling stories about what’s going on in other people’s heads? Share your comments below!

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