LOS ANGELES -- It was a sexist joke, and not very funny at that.

During his recent "Saturday Night Live" monologue, comedian Shane Gillis observed that women working out in gyms these days dress like "w—." And then, proving his powerlessness in the face of so much Lycra, he added, "There's no other way to describe it."

Well, Shane, it's just not that comfortable to do squats in street clothes.

Still, I thought the backlash against Gillis was a bit over the top. I've made similarly tasteless observations about how some of the kids at our local high school dress. A lot of them look like they're ready for a night out at the club instead of a day in the classroom.

If you've ever driven past, let's say, Venice High School, as I do multiple times a day, you might be surprised to see how many girls are skimpily dressed. Yes, of course, many students wear the ubiquitous floor-dragging baggy jeans and oversized hoodies. And yes, the school does have a dress code. Unfortunately, it is entirely notional, just like the school's much-touted smartphone ban.

No one wants to live in a world where women and girls are constantly being told that their clothing choices constitute a form of distraction to men. Or an invitation of some sort. But to be honest, I have been shocked by how many teen girls arrive at school these days in cleavage-spilling tank tops, bare stretches of midriff and shorts that look more like bathing suit bottoms than actual pants.

Here, for example, is a typical school-day conversation with my 16-year-old niece, who lives with me: "Honey, those shorts don't fit you. Your butt cheeks are hanging out."

"Auntie," she replies, "that's how they're supposed to look!"

Do I demand that she change? I do not.

Instead, I remind myself that every generation dresses in a way that grates on their parents. That's developmentally appropriate. And if short shorts are the most intense friction point between my niece and me, I consider that a win, parentally speaking.

It's not just the clothes. False eyelashes, cheaper than ever and easy to apply, have become de rigueur for teenage girls. I've always blamed the Kardashians and Fox News for this look, which has now trickled down as far as middle school. Some of the girls in my niece's social circle wear lashes that rival Tammy Faye Bakker's famous eye spiders.

And don't get me started on the long, fake nails, which render a teenager incapable of popping a soda can top or opening a necklace clasp.

Last month, I took my niece to urgent care after one of her acrylic nails started to lift her real nail off its bed. The doctor offered to shoot a nerve blocker into each side of her finger, then pull off the nail. My niece's face went white. The solution seemed a little too medieval, so we declined.

Are you really liberated if your aesthetic choices lead to bodily injury?

I grapple constantly with how to teach my niece about the trade-off between personal responsibility and sexual empowerment. I don't think she understands the extent to which she and her friends are being objectified by a culture that can't seem to help itself. Gillis' neo-Neanderthal reaction to women in workout clothes proves it.

This year, my niece stopped riding the city bus to school because, as she told me, she didn't like the way strangers looked at her. When I gently suggested that she might put on a sweater to cover her plunging necklines if she was uncomfortable, she accused me of victim blaming. I took her point, and I know it's not fair. But if the way people look at you causes discomfort, and you have the power to change that, should you?

I know my niece and her friends think they are making their own bold choices but they are beholden, as we all are, to the forces of pop culture, social media and standards of beauty that are created to satisfy the male gaze.

Why else would my niece create a Winnie the Pooh Halloween costume whose major component is a strapless red corset? (We have yet to discuss the fact that Pooh does not wear pants.)

And why would any woman voluntarily do to her face what women like Kimberly Guilfoyle or Kristi Noem have done to theirs if there weren't some sort of tacit understanding that extreme artifice in pursuit of "perfection" is what the men in their social and political circles expect and reward?

And then, inevitably, punish.

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Bluesky: @rabcarian

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