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BMO Harris Vice President Justine Fedak believes bigger is better

An 80-inch Sharp TV is Justine’s model choice. | Phocourtesy Apt.com

An 80-inch Sharp TV is Justine’s model of choice. | Photo courtesy Apt.com

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Updated: December 15, 2012 6:20AM



Size matters. Or so the saying goes.

But when it comes to TVs, it’s the gospel for me. I’m not kidding; it can’t be big enough.

I think this fascination began with my father’s love of TV and video in the ’70s. I recall Saturday afternoons spent watching Charles Bronson movies, westerns and hours upon hours of replaying the video movies he faithfully took of us: I, the aspiring reporter with my brigade of Muppet puppets speaking for me, was most often the star (at least in my own mind). I’d watch him wire and rewire Betamax machines to one monitor, and then another, and feed it into the TV. Magic.

And we would always shop for more equipment.

The excitement of seeing the newest TV, being the first to have the newest technology became a source of pride for me.

When I was about 8 years old, against all the usual parenting “rules,” I got my own TV for my room. It was black and white and the monitor casing was bright white, which nicely matched my pink gingham canopy bedroom set. I knew at the moment the TV hit the stand and “Love Boat” was on the screen that I was royalty.

As I grew older, the TV changed to suit my evolving needs. It became color. It came with a remote control. The technology got better, and yes, the screen got bigger.

I recall in my teen years explaining to other girls how you actually measure the screen. They were fascinated (and perplexed) at my knowledge.

Now, the male species was not fascinated. They were validated — that a woman wanted a giant TV just as much as they did, and that a “girl” could wire the TV simply because she wanted surround sound or a better picture to enhance the art of couch-sitting joy.

I recently purchased an 80-inch TV, the newest and best I could find. It was most certainly the biggest thrill I could have. Buying it gave me a rush. Watching the two men install it encouraged my excitement that now I would have my very own theater-sized screen.

I talk about it every chance I get. Strategize about how to work it into conversations to watch men drool, full of envy, and tell me they didn’t think they would get much agreement for such an upgrade. For every guy who is turned on by my addiction, some are intimidated. As I’ve said before, size does matter.

For all the women (and — I’m guessing — a few men) who can’t quite appreciate this passion: It’s real. I swear to you I feel it in every cell of my body. Even when the TV isn’t on, I still get a little thrill as I pass by it, vacuuming the floor.

Maybe it is the fond memories I have of wonderful times with my dad. Or maybe it’s my competitive streak.

Whatever it is, I’m already dreaming about my next conquest, and it’ll be 120 inches.

Justine Fedak donated her fee for writing this column to the Noah’s Arc Foundation.



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