Dear lady (or ladies, really) at work:
Quit staring at me like I'm a freak with two heads, who might steal your husband and/or suicide bomb you at any moment. Just for the record, I have one head like everyone else, I don't know your husband but am sure that I wouldn't be that into him even if I did know him, so no worries there, and I don't believe in explosive devices, death or mayhem; I believe in books. So, the next time I smile at you, try not to give me that panicky oh-my-Jeebus-why-is-that-slutty-ethnic-girl-who-I-bet-wants-to-boink-my-poor-sweet-(insert name of poor sweet hubby here)-and-then-suicide-bomb-all-of-us-staring-at-me look and just smile back. It won't kill you. You might find that it even allays your anxieties. Or you may want to think about medicating yourself.
Thanks for your time and consideration.