Our Guide to Cupping

Is your immune system due for a boost, or are you struggling to shake off that post-workout soreness? It might be time to get “sucked in” to the world of cupping. While the tell-tale circular marks look like a run-in with a sea creature or an alien abduction, we promise this ancient modality is worth the temporary bruising. Here is our unfiltered take on the benefits, the pain, and the weirdness.

She Said: Don’t let the heated table and candles fool you; this isn’t exactly a relaxing day at the spa. I had no idea what to expect. If someone had said, “Imagine getting a nice big hug from an octopus,” I would have been prepared. Luckily, we had a very sweet therapist, who talked us through everything and checked our comfort level. Those plastic cups with the suction tool can get VERY sucky. The intensity can go up to a level 3, and I was comfy between level 1.5-2. It’s not supposed to hurt, but there are some uncomfortable sensations. She also had the “old-school” glass cups, where a flame is used to remove oxygen, thus providing the suction. She preferred this traditional method of working with the elements, and so did I. There’s something primal and natural about using fire and glass. The glass cups were very gentle and had a cool, smooth edge that would glide on my lotioned skin when she moved them to a new place on my back or neck. The cups can be placed anywhere on the body that’s squishy or flexible, even on the face for cosmetic reasons. Can you imagine walking around with those large, angry circles on your cheeks? Eek. Anyway, it was a short session of about 15 minutes, and then the cups were released. That was such a relief! My skin could finally relax, and I rested there for a minute because I felt sleepy. Walking to the car, I felt a little loosey goosey, and a slight headache was coming on — nothing that a lot of water and a snack couldn’t fix. After four days, the circles are still there – some with bruising — but my back pain is reduced, so I’d say it was worth it!

He Said: This magazine never gets tired of torturing me. This month’s modality was cupping therapy, a 3,000-year-old Chinese art that’s one step away from blood letting, in my opinion. For the uninitiated, cupping therapy involves placing small cups on your skin and creating suction, either with heat or a pump, to “increase blood flow.” Which is a nice way of saying your back is about to look like it lost a fight with an octopus. I walked into the therapist’s office with a smile on my face, obtuse and naive as usual. I was greeted with smiling faces that ushered me back to a room with a massage table. I took my shirt off and laid down on the table, and started asking all my normal chit chat questions, “Where are you from?” “How long have you been doing this?” Yee-haw! All that small talk stopped real quick when the therapist put the first suction cup on me. That thing grabbed my back like a vacuum cleaner attacking a lost sock. I was noticeably quiet, which of course made her ask the standard question, “How’s that feeling?” “Oh, great,” I said, trying to sound tough while inside my mind I questioned how much I needed this job. It wasn’t painful, but it was as close as you can get while still staying in the uncomfortable range and definitely way more intense than I thought it would be. After what felt like an eternity (just a few short minutes), she released the cups and allowed my soul to return to my body. This was by far the shortest therapy we’ve ever tried — just 25 minutes, start to finish. I left feeling great and far less stressed, but I looked like a human domino. The annoying part of all of this is that it worked pretty darn well. My back felt great the following week and my muscles cooperated more. I would do this again now that I know what to expect. Next time, I’ll plan it a little better — the pool at the gym is going to be a little awkward this week.

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